


Damnit

by Nym_Blacktyde



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, son of batman universe
Genre: Damian knows whats up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, batman and nigthwing tension, misunderstood fools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nym_Blacktyde/pseuds/Nym_Blacktyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone gets hurt, and when someone lashes out, old wounds are reopened. Damian knows whats up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damnit

Dick’s lids flickered open, clamping shut at the blurry, white brightness that assaulted his gaze as soon as he did. A groan tried to emerge, but as he did he was made aware of a  startlingly sharp rawness in his throat, and was forced into fighting down a painful coughing spell, if only to keep his tenacious hold on consciousness from slipping. Somewhere in the midst of his miserable situation of trying not cough up a lung, or some other equally important internal organ, a warm, strong weight landed on his shoulder. A rumbling voice somewhere very near the right side of his head murmured, in what sounded like the tone of a man who had had to repeat himself several times, “Dick, open your eyes”. He knew who it was, and old habits that hadn’t quite died, and a long buried bond of trust allowed him to follow the command, and squint open his watering eyes, as he gasped and coughed, his throat stripped raw. 

Bruce’s blurry figure came into focus first, and then something in his peripheral vision was moved closer. He painfully turned to see Bruce was proffering a foam coffee cup with a straw in it. The warm weight, which he realized was Bruce’s other hand, moved from his shoulder to gently grip the base of his neck, stabilizing him, and brought the cup and straw to his mouth.  
“small, slow sips, Dick. Anymore and you might send it down the wrong pipes.”  
Dick managed to clasp the straw between his dry, cracked lips, and swallowed a few exquisitely painful sips, before Bruce pulled the cup away.  
Dick, pondering his ability to now breath without hacking, slowly took stock of his body. There was a tightness in his chest and torso below the sheets that suggested they were tightly wrapped, and a heaviness to his left leg that made him look down, to where his cast-bound leg was slightly elevated in a sling attached to the ceiling. With his left hand apparently immobilized against his chest, he brought his right hand, trembling, weak, to reach for his throat. Before he could complete his task, a hand grabbed his wrist, and moved his arm back to his side.  
“You went down hard after Hatter blew the car you jumped on top of with a Bazooka. Bane caught up and grabbed you by the throat before I could get to you. You were on a ventilator until a few hours ago, finally thought it was safe enough to bring you out of the induced coma.” Dick had to blink several times to process that, with only vague memories of jumping traffic to catch up to the Hatter’s get away vehicle. _Damn it._

 _“_ So the rest of this is from the explosion?”  
“You were badly bruised, with second degree burns from when the roof of the car was projectiled off the car, with you on it. Your leg and arm are from being tossed 30 feet from the blast as a result.”  
“Damn, so just like Tim did with Barb’s cookies last Thanksgiving?” He hardly recognized his own voice. But humor was always his first line of defense, and the uncomfortably stony expression that had taken over Bruce’s face was starting to taint his mood. 

“You were careless, Dick.” Dick closed his eyes, and would’ve laughed if it didn’t make him feel like his throat was being clawed out.

“ _There it is._ Didn’t take you long, have you just been sticking around, waiting to rip me a new one? So, *cough*, so you can get another lecture under your belt about how irresponsible I am? Guess what, that’s not your job, or your right, anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time. I make my own damn decisions, and you don’t get to come in here, all high and mighty, and critique my judgement.”

Dick was left quietly gasping, and had managed to set his chest off, so it felt like his entire body was one, throbbing wound. There was something in Bruce’s face, which had remained impassive through his tirade, that was rubbing him the wrong way, but he couldn’t pinpoint it, so he gingerly turned his head away from his unflinching gaze, and stared out at the nighttime cityscape visible through a small window. It was another minute before he heard the noise of Bruce’s chair being pushed back, and slow, steady steps retreating away from his bedside. They paused by what he assumed was the door, when he heard his voice.

“Damian is here to stand watch, I’ll pass along news through him. We got Bane back where he belongs, but Hatter’s still out there.”

With those words, a door nob turned, the footsteps proceeded, and the door was shut again. He had just barely heard Damian’s soft steps, which had kept time with Bruce’s as he exited, using them to mask his entrance into the hospital room.  
Damian and Dick had never had an extremely wordy relationship, so he felt no need to waste energy turning his head back over to greet him, and closed his eyes. 

“You’ve impressed me, Grayson. As of this moment, you have reached a level of stupidity I thought beyond even you. My congratulations.”

 _Damn it._ So much for not talking. Dick grunted softly as he turned back to see his mentor’s son, in a black hoodie, black jeans, and black converse staring at him with that disapproving  aristocratic air that made Dick want to give the kid a good noogie.

“You _really_ need to change up your color scheme, kid, you look like a pissed off emo grade schooler.” Damian sneered, but there was something tight and agitated in the way he held himself, a way that hadn’t been inspired by Dick’s teasing in a long time. 

“Says the man who’s done his best job of mimicking a high schooler’s mummy costume.”

It was a childish retort, with no bite to it, but the tense way Damian was still holding himself, still not having moved from the door, had Dick’s hackles up.

“Seriously, I’m about to get a performance review by the mini-me Wayne, too? Freaking can’t do a damn thing right with you people, but what would Bruce do with all his free time if he had let Bane finish the job? No one to push constant disappointment on would be a major blow to his carefully constructed eg—“

“ _Shut up!!!”_

Damian’s outcry was not so loud as to bring nurses running, but it would’ve been just as effective to whisper, the way his tone cut straight through the room and Dick’s raspy tirade. 

Dick took in the little Wayne, who was glaring at him, chest heaving, fists clenched. 

“How dare you talk about him like that! As if he holds no value for your life! You might forget that you were out of commission when all of this was happening, so you weren’t there to see what that night did to him! You didn’t see his face when that car blew up, when Bane was seconds away from crushing you!”

Dick was stuck staring agape, as Damian violently turned his back on him, his shoulders trembling. He starts to speak again, but this time his voice has a softer edge to it, a tightness to the tone you hear when someone is doing their damnedest to hide how close to breaking they are. 

“He hasn’t left your bedside since you were admitted. You claim I am so ignorant….but you. You know that he considers you as…..as much a son to him, as I am. How could you claim anything otherwise, when you know how he really feels?” Dick, beyond the pain, and the fog of drugs, felt an abyss opening in his stomach. _Damn it._

 Damian stalked for the door, jerking it open. Without turning around, he sneered “and they say I’m cruel.” the slam of the door echoing behind him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Time Lapse~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dick vaguely remembers a nurse wandering in, mentioning something about elevated pulse, and another dose of pain medicine. He waves her away. He turns down 4 offers of pain medication by the time the first hint of dawn breaks over the horizon outside of his window, and Bruce returns to his room, the Batman suspending his hunt for the waking hours. He is almost soundless when he reaches Dick’s bedside, and slowly lowers himself into the chair he had occupied those countless hours before. Their faces were barely distinguishable in the dark, but with neither being strangers to the shadows, they locked eyes easily.  
“You’re refusing pain meds.”  
“I wanted to be able to think clearly, that stuff could knock out an elephant.”  
Bruce let out a tired breath, and the ever so slightly slumped silhouette of his shoulders kills Dick. “That’s the point, Dick. You’re injured, you need to let your mind rest so your body can heal.”

“I’ll rest when I’ve said what I want to say.” Bruce’s shoulders stiffen, and his face becomes guarded, gearing for a verbal attack.

“Go on then.” Dick swallowed painfully, though he wasn't totally sure if it was just from the bruising, and propped his arm on his elbow, offering his hand. Bruce was clearly expecting anything but that, his eyes wide as he took in Dick’s face and the proffered hand. But then his gaze softened, and his mouth ticked up. His large, calloused hand reached forward, and clasped Dick’s tightly. Dick was grateful for the darkness that made him, naively, feel less exposed. 

“I’m sorry. I was being an ass before. I’d blame it on the drugs, but, well, we both know I don’t need drugs to dig myself a hole.” Bruce had been smiling softly, but at his last analogy, his face shuttered, the flinch only perceptible to Dick because he was holding his hand prisoner. _Damn it._

He squeezed Bruce’s hand, to try and enforce his next words. 

“I’m sorry I almost died on you. I’m sorry you had to carry me into the hospital, and not know if I was coming back out. I know…..” His throat was clenching, an uncomfortable ache nothing to do with his injuries lurking behind his eyes. “I know…..despite everything that’s happened over the years, I know you…..” _Damn it, Damn it, Damn it! “_ And you need to know that I….” He let out a ragged groan, his eyes clenched shut in frustration. The hand in his shifted, and suddenly there was another on the side of his face. He opened his eyes just in time to see Bruce lean over him, and rest his forehead against the crown of his. Dick let his eyes slip closed again, tension bleeding out.  
“I know, Dick…I know.”


End file.
